“I suppose so,” replied Paul slowly. “I should have liked to have finished this report before I go.”
“The report can wait,” cried Gerard, “France can’t.”
The two friends talked late into the night. Paul gradually threw off the reticence with which he had at first answered De Montignac. They fell to debating the strength of the different columns, the line of march, whether through the forest of Zemmour or over the plain of the Sebou and by the Col of Segota, and who would command.
“Brulard for the Advance Force,” said Gerard, “the General himself will follow.”
“And Gouraud?” asked Paul.
“Yes, yes, Gouraud. He couldn’t be left behind. It is said that he will have the supply column and follow a day or two behind Brulard.”
“We shall know more about it to-morrow,” said Paul, and Gerard looked at his watch.
“Do you know the time?” he said springing to his feet. “If we were in France now, we should see daylight.” He was in an emotional mood. He clapped his friend upon the shoulder. “We shall see one another again, my old one, before I start, no doubt. But if we don’t, and anything happens to either of us, well, it is good luck to the survivor.”
He shook hands with Paul and Paul let him out of the house.
Paul went back to the room. The eagerness with which he had discussed the technical details of the expedition fell from him as soon as he was alone. He sat down at his table and remained there until dawn at last did break over the town. But he was not at work upon his report. He had pushed it from him and sat with his face between the palms of his hands.